


The Kabby Christmas Story: The Greatest Story Never Told

by IsolationShepherd



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas fic, F/M, Kabby, Romantic Comedy, Special Guest Appearance, classic story, warm and fuzzy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 23:00:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17068823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsolationShepherd/pseuds/IsolationShepherd
Summary: In the year 2281 Abby Griffin sits alone in a spaceship, the comatose body of Marcus Kane next to her, healed now, but still asleep. She's been keeping a vigil for months, praying he'll wake up. When he finally does, they must undertake an arduous journey together, full of surprises. This is a warm and humorous retelling of a classic Christmas story.





	The Kabby Christmas Story: The Greatest Story Never Told

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas to all my readers. Thank you for reading me and supporting me through 2018. I really appreciate our chats and your comments. This is my Christmas gift to you; I hope you enjoy it.

Our story begins a long time in the future, in the year 2281, on a planet with two suns. In the depths of a spaceship, docked above the planet, sits a woman. Her name is Abby Griffin, and she has long brown hair streaked with grey and deep brown eyes the colour of the ground she has never stood on. It’s cold on the spaceship and her small body is wrapped in a pale blue blanket. She covers her head with it, pulls it tighter, and shivers. She checks the readings on the cryopod she’s sitting beside. They’ve been fluctuating lately and she’s not sure why. Her engineering skills are rusty after 125 years in cryosleep and a year on this unfamiliar ship, the last few months alone. She puts her hand on the pod, above the head of the man she’s pledged herself to for better or worse, and frankly after 130-odd years together she’s still waiting for the better.

She sits and watches and waits, because what else is there to do? She’s never been a knitter, and there’s no one to doctor to up here; her sole patient lies in front of her, and there’s nothing she can do for him. Lately she’s imagined the glass is misting, but then dismisses it. This isn’t a fairy tale, and though to her eyes Marcus Kane is definitely a Sleeping Beauty, he isn’t going to wake up even if she were to lift the lid on his pod and kiss him. She knows that for a fact because she’s tried it. She tells herself it’s too many glasses of the algae punch she’s grown fond of, but it’s barely alcoholic and she hasn’t even been bothered with that lately. The mist is wishful thinking, and as Marcus said a long, long time ago, wishful thinking isn’t good science. The monitors don’t lie. So she sits and watches and waits.

On the day our story begins, Abby is about to fall asleep when something catches her eye, movement, coming from the pod. No. It can’t be. She rubs her eyes, as though that will miraculously improve her vision, and stares at the crypod. Suddenly alarms are going off, screaming at her like the ghosts of all the people who’ve died since they left the Ark for Earth so many lifetimes ago. She presses buttons randomly, having not prepared for this scenario and not knowing what to do. Raven took the manual with her to the new planet by accident and there’s no wi-fi 126 years and many parsecs from an obliterated Earth. There’s no one she can call for help. She must deal with it herself.

Eventually she presses enough buttons to silence the alarms, but one of them must operate the pod and to her horror the lid raises and exposes its precious cargo to the air. She tries to push it back down but it’s too high for her and no matter how much she jumps she can’t reach it. She looks down at Marcus. His neck wound has healed. She fixed that a year ago when Clarke first opened the pods, and she’d hoped he would come out of his coma but he never did. His physical wounds were gone but something was preventing him waking, and Abby had given up hope he ever would. She picks up his hand and holds it; it’s cold and she strokes it, trying to bring warmth to him. His fingers tighten around hers, and Abby’s heart stops for a second. She watches his face, sees his eyelids flutter. She leans over him, feels a warm breath on her face. He’s awake!

Abby presses a kiss to Marcus’s cheek, and his eyes open. He seems confused for a moment, and then he smiles.

“Abby,” he says, and hot tears flow down Abby’s face.

“Hi,” she replies, covering his face with kisses.

“Where am I?”

“On a spaceship many lightyears from home. You’ve been in cryosleep, we all have, but you didn’t wake up when the rest of us did a year ago. It’s a long story. Take it easy,” she says as Marcus tries to sit up.

“I’m okay. I feel fine.”

Abby stands back to give him room, and Marcus swings his legs over the side of the pod and looks her over.

“What the hell?” he says, his eyes wide as saucers as he takes in the sight of her.

Abby looks down at her body, at the bump she’s been carrying around for nine months now. “Erm, yes, well.”

“what have you been eating? How long have I been asleep?”

Crap. She’d never thought she’d have to have this conversation with him and she’s completely unprepared. “Erm, 126 years, and it’s not food, Marcus. It’s a baby.”

Marcus stares at her, and the monitors start beeping again, and Abby worries he’s going to have a heart attack. “What? How? Who?” he says, glowering as he says the last word.

“A baby. With a reaper stick. You.” It isn’t the gentlest way to tell him he’s going to be a father, but Abby is nothing if not straightforward.

“Me? How?” Marcus’s mouth gapes open, what she can see of it beneath his straggly moustache and long beard.

“Don’t be mad, but I thought you were dead, to all intents and purposes. And it seemed such a waste. The world needs a mini Marcus Kane. And the necessary parts of you were already frozen. It was just a matter of a small procedure, nothing painful, not that you could feel pain. You were dead. I thought you were dead, okay!” Abby is rambling and defensive. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now she was faced with Marcus’s incredulous face she’s having second thoughts, although it is too late for that. Way too late. The baby moves, trying to punch its way out of her like it does every day now, and Abby shifts uncomfortably.

“What was that?” says Marcus.

“A kick or a punch. It’s a feisty little thing.”

“Can I feel it?”

“Of course.”

Marcus puts his hand on her stomach, and when the baby kicks again he smiles. “Is it really mine?”

“Well who else could it be? Bellamy?”

“I always thought you and Murphy.” Marcus gives her a sly look.

“Hey, that was just the one time, and you enjoyed it.”

“True, true. So what happens now?”

“We have to go to the ground. The others went ages ago, to register at the local town. We were all supposed to go but I refused. I wanted to stay here with you.”

“Why do we have to register? What kind of planet is this?”

“There’s some local King, Herodious, had a bit of a hissy fit when we appeared out of nowhere in his sky. Clarke went to ground and he demanded everyone register themselves before the end of the year. Like I said the others left, but I wouldn’t leave you.”

“That’s my stubborn girl,” says Marcus with a smirk, and he leans in and tries to kiss her, but the bump gets in the way and they end up doing a weird sideways dance before they can lock lips. “This is going to take some getting used to.”

“No time for that,” says Abby, glad to have something to do after months of sitting and staring. We have to get in the dropship and get to ground. There’s only a week before the end of the year.”

“Are you sure you’re okay to go in your condition?” Marcus rubs her bump again, as though to reassure himself it’s real.

“Of course. I’ll be fine. What could go wrong anyway? I’m a doctor.”

Marcus jumps down from the pod, his limbs unaffected by over a century lying dormant. It was the same for them all upon waking, something of a mystery, but there are things in life Abby has decided it’s best not to question too closely.

“It’s only a short journey to the ground,” continues Abby. “We don’t have to plunge through the atmosphere like we did in the Ark.”

“Shame,” says Marcus. “I enjoyed you holding on to me as we plummeted to our deaths.”

“I think you’ll find it was you holding on to me!” Abby waddles across to her campbed, aiming to reach the bags she stored under there months ago when she first started sleeping close to Marcus. She tries to bend but her belly gets in the way. She tries to squat but realises if she does that she’ll never get up again. She could get on her knees, but same result. Marcus is watching her with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “You could help, you know,” Abby says as she glares at him.

“I. Yes, sorry. This is all new to me. Are you sure it’s only one baby in there?”

“Are you saying I’m fat?” Abby puts her hands on what used to be her hips and increases her glare to laser level.

“As if I would dare!” says Marcus, and he bends down with an ease that makes Abby green with envy and picks up her bag. “What am I putting in here?”

“There’s a change of clothes in my drawer, and we’d better take this blanket.” She hands the blue covering to Marcus who stuffs it into the bag. “Take these food wraps and oh, we’d better take this.” She hands the bottle of algae punch to Marcus who looks at it, opens the top and sniffs, recoiling at the smell.

“What is this? It smells worse than your feet.”

“My feet don’t smell that bad.”

Marcus raises an eyebrow and screws the top back onto the bottle.

“It’s algae punch. It’s only a tiny bit alcoholic.”

“Are you supposed to drink alcohol when you’re pregnant?” He looks at her in a judgemental way that transports Abby back to the old days on the Ark. She bristles.

“A small amount is good for the baby, and besides, I had to do something to pass the time. You’re not especially talkative when you’re awake, never mind in a coma.”

Marcus smiles as he wraps the bottle in the blanket. “You missed me.”

“Maybe a little.” Abby smiles in return. “There’s another bag under the bed I’ll need as well.”

Marcus gets on his knees and searches out the backpack. He opens it to look inside, pulling out squares of cloth, pins, ointments, plastic bottles, a knife, a medical kit and a wooden ball that rattles when he shakes it. “What’s all this?”

“Stuff for the baby. Diyoza left it for me when she went to the ground.”

“She’s had her baby?”

“Yes, finally. Longest gestation in history. I delivered her,” Abby adds proudly.

“A girl? What did she call her?”

“Despair.” Abby keeps a straight face, enjoying Marcus’s look of horror.

“Despair? Was there something wrong with her?”

“No, you idiot. She called her Hope. Your fault, apparently.”

“Hope? Ah, yes.” Marcus smiles smugly.

Abby rolls her eyes. “Come on, we need to go.”

Marcus adds a few more useful things to her bag and then Abby leads him to the dropship, gets into her seat in front of the controls. She pulls the seatbelt across but it won’t go past her bump. She pulls and pulls on it but nothing will make it fit. “Help me,” she says and Marcus comes across and pulls on the belt but he can’t make it fit either. You can’t make something designed for one person fit someone who is essentially two.

“We’ll have to improvise,” says Marcus and he cuts one of the other straps with the knife and attaches it to Abby’s belt with the pins from her bag. “You’d better make a soft landing because I don’t think this will hold you given your….” He stops, averts his eyes from her stern gaze.

“Given my what?”

“Your voluptuousness,” he says, rushing back to his seat and strapping himself in before Abby can sock him with a left hook.

Abby ignores him, concentrates on trying to remember what Raven told her about flying the dropship. She presses buttons and they must be the right ones because mechanisms turn, something whirs to life, and there’s a jolt as they detach from the mothership and begin their descent. The baby kicks in protest at being shaken about as Abby wrestles with the atmospheric winds of the new planet. The ground seems to rise to greet them and a few minutes later she sets down with only a small bump. She turns to look at Marcus, a triumphant look on her face. He’s white as snow and then suddenly he unclips his belt, runs from his seat and vomits into a cup holder. He never was a good flyer.

“Are you okay?” she says as she undoes her own belt and grabs onto the gearstick to lever herself up. He grunts in reply. Abby lets him recover while she removes the pins from the improvised belt and returns them to the backpack. “Have some punch, it will cleanse your mouth.” She offers it to Marcus who takes it and looks at it with a grimace.

“I’m not sure cleanse is the word I would use for this stuff,” he says as he holds his nose with one hand and upends the bottle into his mouth with the other. He takes a big swallow, pulls a face, retches, but keeps it down. Abby refrains from making a comment about how he is a bigger baby than the one growing inside her.

“Are you ready to set foot on this new planet?”

“I’d carry you over the threshold, but I’m not sure my arms are up to it.” Marcus looks at Abby warily.

“This is your child doing this to me, you realise that?” Abby takes a step towards Marcus and he takes a step back.

“I only meant my arms are weak after all the time in cryo.” He holds the bags in front of him in mock protection as Abby pretends to hit him.

“Let’s go,” she says, and she opens the hatch and steps out into the glare of the two midday suns. Marcus follows her, shielding his eyes from the bright light. “Remind you of anything?” Abby says as they survey their surroundings.

“Our first time on Earth,” he says, and he puts his arm around her, pulls her to him.

Abby leans in to him, for support as well as out of nostalgia. Her ankles are swelling already in the heat. “It’s not as beautiful as Arkadia.”

“No. It’s kind of dry. And hot.” Marcus screws up his face as he looks around.

“There’s nothing to see.”

“Just sand.” He steps down onto the dusty ground and holds his hand out to help Abby. He straps on the backpack and shoulders the other bag and hand in hand they take their first steps on the new planet.

They’ve taken no more than a few steps when Marcus suddenly lurches towards Abby and kisses her fiercely. “I love you,” he says.

“You never said that when we first stepped on Earth,” says Abby, surprised and a little overwhelmed.

“A lot of acid rain has gone under the bridge since then.” He smiles at her, strokes her bump, their bump she supposes she should call it now.

“I love you too. Can we go? I’m wilting.”

They trudge over the sand, the track barely visible as dust swirls in the warm wind.

“How do you know where to go?” says Marcus. Abby points to a stone just behind them with a message scribbled on it.

_MOM_

_PLEASE FOLLOW THIS PATH TO SALEM_

_22KM NORTH/NW_

_CLARKE_

“Ah,” says Marcus, then he frowns. “Twenty-two kilometres? That’s a long way to walk in your condition, Abby.”

“I’ll be fine,” Abby says, but she’s starting to wonder. Each step makes her ankles swell further, and she has to put a hand on her back to ease the ache of the weight she’s carrying at the front. Also, she needs to pee, and when she looks around there’s nowhere to shelter behind, nothing but sand. They walk and rest, walk and rest, and she can sense Marcus growing tense beside her. He’s probably worried about her and impatient at their slow progress.

“I have to pee, Marcus,” Abby says when they’ve been walking maybe half an hour and she can’t hold it any longer.

“Where?” he says, looking around with a desperate look on his face.

“It will have to be here.”

“Next to the path?” His look of horror makes Abby want to laugh.

“Where else? In the public toilets that are just around the corner? Of course here.”

“Okay. Well I guess I can shield you.”

“You’ll have to do more than that. I can’t squat and hold myself up. You’ll have to hold my hands.”

“There has to be a better way,” he says in an alarmed voice, and rummages in the bag, pulling out a pair of binoculars.”

“You’ve seen me vomit in a bucket more times than I’d like to admit. Why are you so bothered about seeing me pee?”

“I’m not,” he says as he scans the horizon, “but you deserve some comfort.”

Abby’s heart constricts at his words and she softens. “We’re not going to find comfort out here, Marcus.”

“I don’t know. There’s something poking above that dune, looks like a hut or something. Do you think you can last that far?”

Abby looks through the binoculars at what Marcus has seen. There is something, though she thinks a building is wishful thinking, but it could be somewhere private, not that this path is teeming with passers-by but it’s sod’s law that the minute she pulls down her pants a caravan of people will march past. “I’ll try,” she says, and wills the baby not to move and press any further on her bladder.

Ten more minutes of slog and they round the dune and Marcus was right, there is a small ramshackle building. Abby sighs with relief. She heads for the door, but Marcus stops her. “I’ll check it out first,” he says and he leaves her standing with her legs crossed, doing the age-old dance of the desperate-to-pee while he knocks on the rickety door. It opens, and a woman’s face peers out. Marcus gestures to Abby, and the woman looks her up and down and nods. Abby doesn’t wait for an official invitation, she staggers to the door and Marcus and the woman help her inside. She’s taken to a small room where the toilet is nothing but a hole in the floor but at least a wooden seat has been erected above it. She shoos Marcus from the room and fights to get her pants down. Now that she’s close to relief her bladder doesn’t want to wait. When she finally sits down it’s the best pee she’s had in her life.

It takes her a while to finish and pull up her pants and sort herself out and when she returns to the main room of the house Marcus is nowhere to be seen. Abby goes outside and sees him shaking hands with the woman, then to her utter astonishment he strips off his blue sweater and hands it over, then does the same with his boots and his jeans. The woman goes around to the back of the house and Marcus is left standing in the dust naked, his hands crossed demurely in front of his privates. Not for the first time Abby wonders why he wasn’t wearing underpants on the day he was nearly killed, wishes she’d found some for him when she’d discovered it during his surgery, but there were other priorities, and where do you find spare underpants on an abandoned ship? She didn't think he'd want to be dressed in someone else's worn pants even if she'd found some for him.

“Marcus?” Abby shouts, and he turns and waves, exposing himself for a brief moment before he realises and cups his hands again. “What the hell?”

“It’s okay,” he says. “Wait there.”

Abby has never been one to obey orders and she starts to waddle over to Marcus when there’s a loud braying sound and the clip of hooves and the woman returns leading a small four-legged animal with a big snout and long ears. What on earth is this? Abby is so surprised she stops in her tracks. The woman hands him a pile of something that looks like cloth and Marcus takes it and holds it in front of him before leading the animal over to Abby.

“What do you think?” he says proudly.

“You have lost your mind,” Abby replies, and she puts a hand to Marcus’s forehead to see if he’s overheated.

“I haven’t lost my mind. I got talking to the woman and she said she had this. It only cost me my clothes.”

Abby was almost speechless. Almost. “What the hell is it and why have you given her your clothes, Marcus? What are you going to wear?”

“I’m going to wear this,” he says, and he unfolds the brown cotton cloth and Abby realises it’s not a cloth but a kind of robe. He puts it on and fastens some brown leather sandals to his feet and he looks like one of the grounders from Sankru. “What do you think?” he says giving her a twirl.

Abby shakes her head. “I don’t know what to think. You still haven’t explained that.” She points at the animal which shakes its head as though it too can’t understand what Marcus is doing.

“It’s a donkey. A beast of burden.”

“Okay, but what’s it for?”

“It’s for you. It’s going to carry you to the town.”

Abby takes a sharp breath. “It is NOT!” she says. “There’s no way I’m getting on that thing.”

“It’s not a thing, he’s called Jack, and he’s going to help us, Abby. You can’t walk to Salem. It’s taken us nearly an hour to go a few hundred yards. I can still see the dropship behind us.” Marcus strokes the donkey’s head and it brays in response. The noise goes through Abby and she folds her arms and looks at it.

“How am I even going to get on it?”

“I’ll help you,” Marcus says, and he leads the donkey to a large slab beside the house and gestures for Abby to stand on the stone.

She stays where she is for a moment longer and then gives in. Marcus is right, she can’t walk all the way to Salem. She stands on the stone and grabs hold of the saddle that is on the donkey’s back. She tries to heave herself up but she’s too heavy and she can barely get one leg off the ground. She feels Marcus’s hands on her butt and he shoves her but all that does is give the donkey a fright and it starts honking and braying right in Abby’s ear.

“For heavens’ sake,” she says. “This is never going to work.”

“It will. I’m going to have to get my shoulder beneath you and kind of lift you up. You’ll have to sit side-saddle.”

“You’re telling me! I haven’t had these legs spread that wide in a long time.” Marcus snorts and Abby realises what she’s said and then they can’t get onto the donkey for laughing.

“Okay, stop, stop,” he says, and they pause while they get the last of the laughter out and take a breath. “Okay. This time we’re going to do it. On three.”

He bends down, gets his shoulder under Abby’s butt cheek. She grabs on to the saddle again and when he shouts “Three!” she pulls herself up and he pushes and grunts and suddenly she’s plonked on the donkey with her legs dangling over the side. She leans forward, grabs hold of the reins, and breathes out. The baby kicks in annoyance and Abby strokes her aching belly where its foot is pressing. It calms down.

“Thank God for that,” says Marcus and he gives Abby the shoulder bag to hold in front of her, puts his backpack on and leads them back to the path.

“I wish I was a man,” says Abby as they trot along the track.

“Why’s that?”

“Then I could pee from up here and never have to get on or off this thing again.”

Marcus laughs. “We do have it easier.”

“Damn right!”

Abby settles onto the donkey, it’s gentle plodding lulling her into a half-sleep. The baby is resting, Marcus is humming softly to himself as he leads them, and for the first time in a long, long time, Abby feels at peace. They maybe on an unfamiliar and hostile planet, she doesn’t know what she’ll face when, if, they get to their destination, but this moment, with the man she loves and thought was dead walking next to her, and their child sleeping inside her, this moment is one of the happiest of her life. 

It doesn’t last long, because when does it ever, and the wind starts to pick up and swirl the sand higher and higher until it’s getting into her eyes and mouth and nose. Marcus stops. He opens the backpack, pulls out the blue blanket and hands it to her. “You’d better put this on, put it over your head and round your face to protect you.” Abby wraps herself in the blanket, covers her head with it, and Marcus does the same with his robe, pulling up the hood and fastening it across his face. Only his eyes are visible, and the bridge of his angular nose. He takes Abby’s hand, strokes it. He looks worried and Abby links her fingers through his.

“We’ll be okay,” she mumbles through the cloth. He squeezes her hand and nods.

They trudge through the sandstorm, Marcus keeping his eyes to the ground to protect them and to make sure they keep to the path. Abby has no idea how long they’ve been travelling. It feels like hours and they don’t seem to be getting anywhere the landscape is so featureless. The suns are hidden behind the dust clouds and it grows dark. Marcus leads them off the path to a group of rocks and he holds out his arms for Abby to lean into. The rocks are high enough for her to step down from the donkey with little trouble and Marcus guides her to the next rock and the next until she is on firm ground.

“We’d better camp here,” he says. “I don’t know if it’s night time or if it’s the storm but I’m tired and you must be exhausted, and hungry.”

“I’m both.” Abby is relieved. It’s more tiring than she’d have imagined sitting on the donkey, and impossible to rest completely for fear she’ll fall off.

Marcus ties the donkey to a rock then takes the blanket from beneath the saddle and lays it on the ground. He helps Abby sit and squats beside her, emptying out the backpack, spreading their meagre rations over the blanket. “What would you like? There’s algae stew, algae soup, algae bolognese?”

“Anything as long as it’s algae,” says Abby with a laugh and Marcus opens two packets of the stew, adding half the contents of one into the other and handing it to her. “What are you doing?”

“You’re eating for two.”

“And you’re doing all the walking. We should share it, Marcus.”

“I’m fine. You’re more important, you and bump.”

They eat the meal cold as they have no means to warm it, and wash it down with a swig of algae punch. Marcus manages to drink it without grimacing.

“It grows on you, doesn’t it?” says Abby.

“I hope we’re not out here long enough for that to happen.”

The wind drops, and the sand stills and they uncover their faces. The sky is black and there’s no moon. Above them the familiar stars of the Milky Way glitter in unfamiliar patterns. Abby doesn’t know if the constellations will be the same, tries to find Orion, but there are too many stars. They sit with their backs to the rocks. Marcus puts his arm around Abby and draws her close.

“This is beautiful,” he says, looking up at the sky.

“I never thought I’d be in your arms again,” says Abby, and Marcus squeezes her.

“I never thought I’d wake up and find you pregnant. I still can’t wrap my head around it. Yesterday we were in Eden and I was fighting that cannibal who fancied you and today I’m on another planet in the future and I’m going to be a father!”

“I know, it’s a lot to take in.” Abby shifts so she can look at him. “Are you angry? You have a right to be angry. What I did wasn’t exactly ethical. I just missed you so much.”

Marcus kisses her forehead. “I’m not angry, confused still, but not angry. The more I think about it the more I think you should have done it anyway. We’re the last of our race, and if there’s a chance to repopulate then we must take it. I’m only sorry I didn’t get to enjoy making our baby the traditional way.” He smirks at her and Abby smiles.

“You might have to wait for any of that. Sex at this stage of pregnancy might bring on labour, and we don’t want that out here.”

“God no. I never even thought to ask you when you’re due?”

“Early January I think, so a couple of weeks at least, though I didn’t have the most accurate equipment. We should get to Salem in plenty of time.”

Marcus is quiet for a moment. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m kind of surprised you got pregnant, given your age and everything.”

Abby bats his arm playfully. “I’m not that ancient.”

“I honestly don’t even know how old I am anymore,” says Marcus.

“I know what you mean. When I decided to try it I removed my implant and did the procedure on you and I didn’t have any expectations. I didn’t know if either of us would be fertile. It really shouldn’t have worked, but it did. First time.” She smiles at Marcus proudly, and he runs his hand over her bump. The baby punches him, its small fist distending Abby’s belly and Marcus jumps and then laughs.

“Amazing,” he says.

“It’s our miracle baby.”

“Yes,” he replies softly. “Do you know the sex?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure I do. Do you want to know?”

He thinks for a moment then shakes his head. “No, let it be a surprise.”

Abby yawns. “I should get some rest. I don’t get much sleep with this one as it is.”

Marcus empties one of the bags and folds it over as a pillow for her. He adjusts her blanket so it covers her then snuggles up behind her, his arm over hers. It’s the first time Abby has been held like this in a year, and it’s like coming home at last. Marcus’s hand strays to her belly again, strokes it. “I love him or her already,” he whispers. “I love you both.”

A tear slides down Abby’s cheek. Goddamned hormones. She can’t wipe it away without alerting him to it, so she lets it slide, hoping it will dry in the warm air before it drips onto his arm. “We love you,” she says, and turns her face to the pillow. Marcus kisses her neck then she feels him relax against her and she lets herself drift into sleep.

\---

“What the hell?” Abby wakes to Marcus’s angry voice and the braying of the donkey. She tries to push herself off the ground with her arms but it’s too hard.

“Marcus?”

“What?” he snaps.

“I need help.”

He turns and looks at her, his face softening from enraged to concerned in an instant. “Sorry. I wasn’t snapping at you.” He grabs her arms and leans back to pull her to her feet.

“What’s happened?”

“That damned donkey has eaten some of our rations, packets and all, and chewed a hole in my robe while I was asleep.

“Where’s the hole?” says Abby. She can’t see anything in her brief perusal of Marcus.

“Here,” he says, turning and showing her. Abby bursts into laughter. There’s a ragged hole right over his left butt cheek.

“Very sexy,” she laughs, putting her hand to his skin, squeezing his cheek.

“It’s not sexy,” he replies, his mouth downturned in a pout.

“Oh, it is, and funny.”

“I have to walk into the town like this. What are people going to think? I don’t want the first thing they see to be my ass.”

“Be grateful it’s not in the front,” replied Abby. “Then they really would have something to look at.”

Marcus tuts, and then smiles. “Do you want something to eat? There’s no more algae soup thanks to that thing.” He glares at the donkey who bares his teeth as though laughing at Marcus. Marcus growls at it and the donkey turns away without a care.

“I never liked the soup anyway, too much algae. I need to pee before I do anything else.”

“I’ve dug a hole around the back of the rocks for you to go in. Can you manage?”

“I should be fine because I can hold onto the rock. I’ll shout you if I need you.”

Half an hour later and they’re on their way again. Abby has pinned one of the cloths she was keeping for the baby into Marcus’s robe and his ass cheek is now covered, much to his delight and Abby’s disappointment. The baby is lively, kicking at her. It’s in the posterior position judging from the placement of the kicks and that’s one less thing to worry about. Clarke had been the same and her birth was relatively straight forward. The only thing that is worrying her is the frequency of Braxton Hicks she’s been getting. She’d barely noticed them before they set off on the journey and now she’s getting three or four an hour. She tells herself it’s down to all the movement, and she’s probably dehydrated. That’s all there is to it. Finding some more water would be useful, though she’s no idea where there could be some.

She isn’t prepared for making this journey as a pregnant woman, she realises that now. Before the bunker she and Marcus could have walked twenty-two kilometres easily in a day. It was the distance from the dropship to Alpha station and she’d made that journey many times. On the spaceship she’d had to force herself to exercise, walking round and round the ship over and over again, and when she’d needed to rest she had, more and more as the months passed. She’d thought she could still do anything, and now she realises she can’t. She’s a burden, a lump, slow and heavy. It might be better to send Marcus on ahead. He could find Clarke, bring help.

“Marcus.”

“Hmm?” He looks up and smiles.

“I think you should go on ahead. I’m slowing you down.”

He stops the donkey, frowns at her. “What? No. I’m not leaving you.”

“You could get help; it will only be a day or so. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he says with his mouth set in a thin line, and that’s the end of that discussion. He pulls the hood up on his robe, takes the donkey’s rope and strides purposefully on. The landscape starts to change, the sand giving way to stonier ground, tufts of grass braving the barren soil, even a small tree, and then two, three, an oasis.

“Marcus, look.” Abby points to the small copse of trees in the near distance. There’s someone there, and when they approach she realises there’s a group of people, twelve in number, sitting on the grass around a small lake. They look up as Marcus and Abby approach, and whispers go around the circle.

“Hello,” says Marcus, nodding at the men. They stare at him, their mouths open, their eyes wide. He is a sight to behold in his robe and sandals, with his long, wavy hair and full beard, leading a donkey with a pregnant woman sitting on it.

“You are him?” one of the men says, standing up.

“My name is Marcus Kane, and this is my, erm, wife, Abby.” He gives Abby a shrug when she looks at him quizzically. “I don’t know their customs,” he whispers. “They might be against unwed mothers.”

Abby rolls her eyes. “Maybe they’re against unwed fathers, have you considered that?”

“Same outcome,” Marcus says, and Abby bites her tongue, not wanting to argue in front of these strangers.

“Marcus,” says the man, rolling the name across his tongue. “That is not what is written.”

“Perhaps he is in disguise,” says a second man. “It does say we shall not know him when he appears.”

“True. Have you come from afar?”

“Quite a long way,” says Marcus. “From planet Earth, have you heard of that?”

The men shake their heads. “Where is that?” says the first man.

“Up there somewhere, amongst the stars.” Marcus points to the sky and the men look up and there is a collective intake of breath, and then the men break into multiple conversations, talking over each other excitedly. Marcus looks at Abby, who raises her arms in a ‘don’t ask me’ gesture.

After a minute or two a hush descends and the first man approaches Marcus. “My name is Peter. It is our honour to welcome you to Sanctum.” He bows low.

“Thank you,” says Marcus, evidently having decided to go along with the strange customs of these alien people.

“Can we get you anything, my Lord?”

“Erm, my wife would like some water, if there is any safe to drink. She’s pregnant.”

More murmurs amongst the crowd. “A pregnant wife. Praise be.” He bows to Abby and gestures to one of the other men to get some water. The man returns with two wooden cups and hands one each to Marcus and Abby. Abby drains her cup quickly. Oh, it is sweet, cold and fresh. She can feel her body responding to it already, waking up, coming to life. She rubs her belly and the baby stretches beneath her hand. She searches her bag for the plastic bottles and hands them to Marcus.

“Can you fill those?”

“Of course.” He moves to go to the lake but Peter stops him, takes the bottles from him.

“We will fill them for you, my Lord.”

“It’s no problem. I can do it myself.”

“So humble,” says the second man, and all the others nod.

“They did say he would be one of us, John,” says Peter in reply.

Abby surveys the men. They are looking at Marcus with something she can only describe as awe. What is going on here? She knows he’s an enigmatic man, but people rarely prostrate themselves in front of him, never in fact, but these men look like they’re about to genuflect. Marcus seems oblivious, he probably thinks it’s just their way, but Abby thinks differently. There’s something not quite right about this scenario.

Peter gestures for Marcus to sit down with them and he turns to Abby to help her off the donkey but she shakes her head. “I’m not getting off or on this thing in front of them,” she whispers, so Marcus leaves her and sits on a stone in front of the lake and the men fan out in front of him.

“Where are you heading, My Lord? What journey are you upon?”

“We’re heading to Salem. King Herodious has requested that we register since we are recent arrivals to your planet.”

This statement produces another flurry of whispering amongst the men. “King Herodious knows of your arrival?” says John, his brow creased with worry.

“Yes. My companions have already gone ahead, and now my wife and I are following them.”

Comments upon Marcus’s words ripple through the crowd.

“His companions.”

“He has companions.”

“So it was written.”

“So it was.

Abby bites back a laugh. She’s starting to think these men have mistaken Marcus for someone, though she has no idea who. Marcus doesn’t seem to have realised this yet himself. He is caught up in the moment, enjoying meeting new people like he did when they first went to Polis and he started to get to know the grounders.

“I would be careful, my Lord,” continues John. “King Herodious has received prophecy of the coming of the Messiah and he is not happy about it. He will see you as a rival.”

Marcus frowns as he takes in what the man has said. “Messiah? What do you mean? I am not a Messiah.”

“Yes,” says Peter. “That is what you should say. Deny it to anyone who asks you.”

Marcus shakes his head. “I am not denying it. I’m not a Messiah or anyone special.”

“Again, so humble,” John says, and the men bow their heads. Marcus looks despairingly at Abby but she is enjoying this scene too much to help him or sympathise with him.

“What are you all doing here?” Marcus says, having evidently decided to either ignore their comments or probe for further information.

“We are on a pilgrimage, Lord, as prescribed in the scripture. We did not think to meet you on this journey. This place will forever be a holy place. We will call it Makan Al-Markus, which means place of Marcus.”

“Well, that is very kind,” says Marcus, “but really not necessary. As I said, I am not special. I think you might be mistaking me for someone else.”

“There is no mistake. It is as it was written. The Messiah will be sent from the stars to come amongst us and we will not know him. He will be one of us, with us, and will look like us and speak like us but he is not us. He is the One. He will be poor and humble, at home with the beasts of the land. He will come forth and bring new life, and he will lead us into a new world.” Peter gestures to Marcus and his clothes, the donkey, and to Abby and her bump as proof that Marcus is some kind of second coming.

Marcus stands. “I am grateful and humbled by your faith and your words. I am not he whom you seek, but I hope that you find him, and that he will bring you peace. Now I must continue my journey.”

His words fall on deaf ears. The men have made up their minds about him and nothing he says is going to change that.

“We understand you must continue your journey, and we pray you are unhindered and that your wife is safely delivered. May we have your words of wisdom to sustain us until we see you again?”

Abby is moved by the men’s faith as well, despite the ridiculousness of this whole encounter. Marcus looks at her for something, reassurance maybe, and she nods at him in encouragement.

“Erm. I would say to you that faith is nothing without love, and love is nothing without hope. Hope is everything.” He glances at Abby who smiles. A lot of water under the bridge since she first said those words, didn’t think he’d heard her or understood at the time, but he had, had held onto them all these years. One of the many reasons why she loves him, his ability to absorb, change and grow but not forget.

“Hope is everything,” Peter repeats. “Thank you, my Lord. We are grateful. Please take care with King Herodious. He is not a man to be crossed.”

“I will.”

“Will you take this offering, my Lord, to aid you on your journey?” Peter hands a long, carved stick to Marcus who takes it.

“Thank you. May we meet again.” Marcus takes his leave of the men and comes across to Abby, grabs hold of the donkey’s rope and leads them away from the oasis quickly as though he fears the men will follow him. Neither of them speaks until they are out of hearing distance.

“What was that?” says Marcus, looking up at Abby his eyes wide and amused.

“They think you’re a god, like Jesus.” She rolls her eyes to indicate what she thinks of that notion.

Marcus smiles smugly. “An understandable mistake.”

“Just because you’ve risen from the dead doesn’t make you god-like.”

“Hmmm. I have risen from the dead, and you are having a virgin birth.” He looks at her with raised eyebrow.

“Virgin?” Abby laughs. “I must have imagined our last few years together, and my life before that, and my first-born child.”

“Your baby was not conceived by man.”

“No, it was conceived by woman and is therefore infinitely superior.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Marcus grins, kisses the highest part of her he can reach which is her belly. “What did you think about what they said about King Herodious and this Messiah character? Should we be worried?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Clarke said he was drunk on his own power but what leader is not?”

“I will find different clothes when I’m in Salem, try to look less god-like, although there is nothing I can do about my saintly demeanour.” He indicates his face and smiles.

“You could cut your hair and trim your beard. That would be a start.”

“You don’t like my hair and beard?”

“It’s getting out of control. We don’t want you being mistaken for a bear or whatever hairy creature they have on this planet.”

Marcus strokes his beard. “I like it; it brings me comfort.”

“I know. Just a trim, so I can see your god-like face properly,” says Abby, and Marcus laughs.

They continue on their journey, walking for another hour or so, and the desert recedes, the trees and bushes take over. They meet a couple of men travelling in the opposite direction, and Marcus removes his hood as they approach. He must be feeling conspicuous after his meeting with Peter and the gang. The men nod but otherwise ignore them, and Marcus relaxes again.

Abby is not relaxed. Her Braxton Hicks are getting worse, starting to become painful, and they’re not supposed to be painful, not supposed to increase in duration. She feels wetness between her legs and she looks down and there’s a stain on her pants and the saddle is shiny, the blanket wet. Crap.

“Marcus?”

Something in her voice must worry Marcus because he stops, looks at her. “What’s wrong?”

Abby points to her pants and Marcus stares. “Did you need a pee? You should have said.”

“It’s not pee. My waters have broken.”

She suspects Marcus has had nothing to do with children and childbirth his entire life because he stands still staring at her pants, and then up at her face. His face registers nothing but shock and confusion.

“I’m in the early stages of labour. The baby is coming.”

“No! You can’t be. You said two weeks!”

“Guess I was wrong, or baby wants out of here. It’s not an exact science, Marcus, especially when you have poor equipment.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Keep going for now. It could be ages. I was in labour with Clarke for twenty-four hours.”

“Twenty-four hours? Christ.”

“We don’t have to worry until the contractions get close together.”

“We’re still a long way from Salem. I don’t want to risk being stranded out here.” There’s panic in Marcus’s voice. He’s new to this, a first-time father. Abby tries to reassure him.

“It will be fine, Marcus. I’ve done this before.” In truth, she is worried. The contractions are already closer together than she would like. They’d only ever had one second child on the Ark that she was aware of and she’d not delivered Octavia, but she’d read medical textbooks of course, knew that a second child could often come quicker, but the textbooks probably weren’t referring to a second child born twenty-five years after the first one. She doesn’t know what to expect. Anything could happen.

“What about your pants? You can’t sit up there wet for the rest of the journey.”

“There’s a change of clothes in my bag. Help me down.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

Marcus leads them to a grassy bank and eases Abby off the donkey as though she is made of glass, heavy glass, like an entire building made of glass, reinforced with Kevlar.

Abby lies on the grass and Marcus pulls off her pants and underwear because she can’t do it herself.

“There’s blood,” he says, alarmed.

“It’s okay. It’s normal.”

He rolls up the wet clothes and puts them in her bag then dresses her in the fresh pants. “Should you be wearing pants? Will it restrict things?”

“Unless you want me to roll into Salem half-naked I don’t have a choice.”

“You could wear my robe.”

“And what will you wear? It’s fine.”

“You keep saying that.”

“That’s because it’s true.” A contraction hits her and Abby fights hard not to let the pain show on her face. She doesn’t want Marcus to know how quickly they are coming. He’ll get distracted and the best thing they can do is keep moving until there’s no choice but to stop. “Get me back on this donkey and let’s go.”

Marcus helps her back on, wraps her blanket around her and they set off again. Marcus keeps looking at her and it’s getting harder and harder for Abby to hide the pain she’s in. She’s timing her contractions, and they’re every five minutes and she can’t deny it any longer, the baby is ready to greet the world. There are more buildings lining the track now, which is wider and better surfaced. They pass a sign that says _Bethel, population 100_ and Abby decides enough is enough. They’re not going to reach Salem. This tiny village will have to do.

“Marcus.”

“Yes?” The worry on his face makes Abby’s heart tighten. He’s not going to like what she has to say.

“My contractions are really close. We’re not going to make it to Salem.”

“We can’t have the baby here, there’s no facilities, nothing!”

“The baby doesn’t care about that. It wants out of here.”

Marcus looks around frantically. He sees something that interests him and drags the donkey and Abby further along the road to a larger building with a sign flapping in the breeze that says Bethel Inn. “An inn,” he says with a smile. “If it’s the same as on Earth they’ll have rooms, water, things.” He ties the donkey to the post and goes inside. Five minutes later he returns, his face like thunder. “There’s no room, or so they say.”

For the first time Abby feels real panic. She’s been in denial about the seriousness of their situation, thinking she could cope with anything, but now she’s faced with having their baby on a dusty street. “There must be something, anything. See what they can do, Marcus. Tell them I’m pregnant.”

“I told them that; they weren’t interested.”

“Try again, please.”

He rubs her arm and then disappears inside again. This time it’s ten minutes before he returns and Abby’s contractions are coming in waves. She needs to pee, or push, or let something out of her body but she tries to hold it in, believing in the sheer force of her not inconsiderable will. “Well?” she says.

“There’s a place around the back. It’s not ideal, but it’s enclosed and the landlady says we can have hot water and whatever else we need.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Marcus leads her to the rear of the building and helps her dismount the donkey before opening a wooden door and ushering her inside. Abby looks around. It’s one long room divided into stalls by wooden partitions. A grunting sound comes from the far stall and there’s a large beast in it, a huge brown hulking thing with horns, staring at Abby and Marcus. The floor is covered with straw and there’s nothing else. “It’s a stable!” she says incredulously. “With animals!”

“I know. Sorry. It’s the best they can do.”

She puts her hands to her head, more so she can think than in despair. “Okay. Okay. It’s fine. It’s good. Put the blanket down, get some hot water, a pot, tin if possible, and any cloths she has. Give me my bag.”

Marcus hands her the bag and disappears to the inn. Abby takes out her medical kit and knife. When Marcus returns she empties some of the hot water into the pot. “Can you make a small fire? We need to sterilise everything. Argh!” A huge contraction hits her and she leans to her side, puts her hand on her back, tries to massage the pain away.

“Can I help you?” says Marcus as he hovers over her, stroking his beard, his eyes wide and fearful.

“Build the fire and get the water to boil, that’s the best way to help.”

Marcus goes outside again, and when he comes back he has an armful of twigs. He clears a wide circle of straw, exposing the bare earth, and builds a fire with the twigs. He sits the pot on top and then helps Abby undress again.

“What can I do now?”

“Sit behind me, rub my back.” He does as she says, and it helps ease the pain, slightly.

The horned beast bellows, and the donkey brays, and Abby wants to scream. Why did she decide to get pregnant at her age? Why did she leave the comfort of the spaceship for this hell on whatever planet they were on?

“I love you,” says Marcus as he rubs her back.

“Yes, yes.” She’s annoyed with him, which is unfair because it’s hardly his fault. He was dead until yesterday, didn’t even know he was going to be a father. She can’t blame him for something he had no part in, but she does. It’s his sperm, his genes in this baby. Sod’s law dictates it won’t be small and slender like her. It’s probably big and long and hairy. It will be hell to birth it. She keeps these thoughts to herself though.

“Ow!” says Marcus.

“What?”

“You’re digging into my thigh!”

Abby looks down and her fingers are imbedded into Marcus’s thigh, right into his skin because his robe has fallen open and his flesh is exposed.

“Sorry,” she says, but she’s not. A pain shared is a pain halved, except it isn’t because another contraction comes and this time she feels the urge to push. “I think it might be time.”

“For what?” Marcus rubs his thigh, bats her hand away when it strays close to him again.

“For world peace!” Abby rolls her eyes even though he can’t see her because he’s still sitting behind her. “For your child to come.”

“Oh. Oh! Our child. Our child is coming!”

“Yes. You’re going to have to take a look, let me know what you see.”

“Okay. Okay.” She hears him take a deep breath and then he shifts and crawls alongside her until he’s settled between her legs. He screws up his face, takes another deep breath before looking between Abby’s bended knees. “I can see something!” he says excitedly. “It looks hairy.”

“I knew it!” says Abby.

“Knew what?”

“Nothing. Stay alert. You’re going to bring your baby into the world.”

Marcus looks at her with tears in his eyes, and it makes Abby tear up as well, then she screams as a really fierce contraction rips through her and she pushes and pushes and Marcus is babbling about the head and how it’s coming, it’s coming but she’s barely listening. She concentrates on her pushes and then she feels it slide out and the next thing Marcus is holding it up to her.

“It’s a boy,” he says, a grin the size of the quarter moon on his face. “We have a son.” He puts the baby in Abby’s arms and she wipes his gooey face, kisses him. He cries, and relief floods her. Marcus sits beside her, leans in and kisses her. “You’re amazing. I love you so much.”

“Our son,” Abby says, and then she cries and it’s the relief, the joy that he’s here and he’s arrived safely despite their makeshift surroundings. Marcus puts his arm around her, strokes the baby’s head.

“He has so much hair!”

“There’s no doubt he’s yours.”

“He has your nose,” Marcus says, running his finger gently along it.

“He has all his fingers and his toes.” Abby checks him over, holds him close so she can listen to his heartbeat. She cuts the cord, ties it off with string.

“He takes after his dad in other ways,” says Marcus as Abby hands the baby to him.

“Whatever do you mean?” she says demurely, and Marcus grins.

“He’s perfect.” Marcus cradles him and Abby looks at them both, father and son. Whoever would have thought it all those years ago back on the Ark?

“I love you,” she says, and tears flow again. Marcus sits with one arm around her, their son curled in the crook of his other arm, and Abby drifts away until the final contractions come, waking her up, and when that’s over she lies back again while Marcus cleans up, relieved that it’s done, that it’s gone more smoothly than she’d dared to hope.

“What are we going to call him?” says Marcus as he settles back beside her, rocking the baby to soothe his crying.

“I don’t know.”

“Didn’t you have some thoughts while you were pining by my bedside all those months?”

“I wasn’t pining, and yes, of course I did.”

“And?”

“I liked Harry.”

“Harry Kane? Sounds like a wind or something. No, that won’t do.”

Abby bristles at Marcus’s dismissal of her name. “I’m dying to hear your choice.” she says sarcastically.

“What about Marcus?”

“Marcus?”

“Yes. What’s wrong with Marcus?”

“Nothing, it’s a great name. One of my favourite people in the universe has that name.”

“One of them?” Marcus looks wounded.

Abby smiles. “He needs his own identity, Marcus. What about Adam? He’s the first boy from our people to be born on this planet. Kind of makes sense.”

“Adam?” Marcus looks pensive, “I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you like Adam?”

“I do. It’s a perfect name.” His shoulders drop and he takes a deep breath. “I once said I would take our population down to Adam and Eve if I had to. Now here we are.”

Abby strokes his arm. “It’s not the same thing.”

“I know, it’s just….”

“You know, I never considered how hard that must have been for you, writing that plan.”

“I never should have done it.”

“No, someone had to. You hardened yourself so you could make those decisions.” Marcus looks at her, and she can see all the guilt from those times that still weighs him down, still wakes him in the middle of the night, unable to breathe, grasping onto her as he fights for air. “In that year. In the dark year.” Abby pauses, finding it difficult to force the words out. “I understood you.” The words come out on a huge sob and Marcus leans across and kisses her, wipes the tears away.

“Adam is our fresh start,” he says, handing the baby to her. “He wipes away all our sins. Thank you for this gift.”

“Hello, Adam Marcus Kane,” Abby says, stroking the delicate skin of his forehead. “Welcome to the universe.”

Adam cries in response and Abby and Marcus laugh. “He’s got the measure of life already,” says Marcus.

“I hope he has a better life than us.”

“Our life hasn’t been so bad. Look at us. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“Hmmm,” says Abby. “I wouldn’t crucify you if I had my time again.”

“I wouldn’t float you.”

“Or lash me.”

Marcus raises his eyebrows at the last one and Abby grins. “Naughty.”

“Come to think of it, I could have lived without the acid rain and being stabbed and eaten.”

“And all the times you were beaten or crushed.”

“And you were tied up or drilled into.”

“It’s almost as though whatever creator there is doesn’t like us very much.”

Marcus laughs. Adam cries again. “I think he’s hungry,” says Abby, and she feeds him while Marcus watches with a look of such love and devotion it makes her warm all over. Afterwards she hands Adam to Marcus. “You can take charge for a while. I need to sleep.” His alarmed face makes her want to laugh. “You’ll be fine. Just keep his head supported and talk to him. He’ll probably fall asleep too.”

When she awakes Marcus has laid Adam on one of the cloths from the landlady and is leaning over him, pulling a face and tickling his belly. “Poor Adam,” Abby says, “having to look at that face.”

Marcus turns at the sound of her voice and pouts. “Poor Adam! Poor me!”

“What’s happened.”

“He peed all over me.” Marcus points to a wet patch on his robe.

“Ah, we need to make him a diaper. Fetch me my bag.” Abby sits up and she takes out one of the squares of cloth she made while she was watching over Marcus and folds it while Marcus watches and frowns. “You’ll soon pick it up,” she says. “I’ve been practising for months.” She fastens the diaper around Adam with the pins and shows him to Marcus. “You’ll be safe now.”

Marcus takes the baby and stands. “I’ve heated some water for you so you can wash and we need to get some fresh straw and get everything as clean as we can.”

“Thank you.” Abby uses the water to wash and then takes Adam while Marcus cleans her clothes from the day before and the linen they’d used during the birth. He hangs the garments over the stalls and then clears away the dirty straw and brings back fresh from outside.

“The landlady gave me some stew earlier when I told her about the baby. Do you want me to heat it up?”

“Yes, God, I’m starving.”

They eat the simple meal before sitting back against the stable wall, Adam suckling at Abby’s breast.

“When will you be fit to travel?” says Marcus.

“Not yet. A few days maybe. I’m sore and tired. I was up and about with Clarke but this time I’m feeling my age.”

“If I’d gone through what you have I wouldn’t move for a week.”

“We’ll just take each day as it comes.”

“I’m going to make a cradle for Adam. There’s a carpentry shed out the back and the landlady said I could help myself to scrap wood.”

“That will be nice,” says Abby as she drifts back into sleep.

This time when she wakes, Adam is in a new diaper, one that hugs his chest and hangs down between his legs. “What on earth?”

Marcus looks at Abby in despair. “He makes a lot of mess, Abby. I’ve had to change him twice and these diapers are useless.”

“They are when you fold them like that.”

“I can’t get the hang of it.”

“That better not be some man way of pretending you’re hopeless so I’ll do them all the time,” Abby says with her hands on her hips.

“As if!”

“Let me show you.” She demonstrates the technique to Marcus and he spends some time practising. He’s not perfect, but he shows promise. He goes out to work on his cradle while Abby plays with Adam and their day goes by quickly. It’s a quiet day, punctuated by curses from Marcus out in the shed when he hits his thumb, cries from Adam for every reason and no reason, brays from the donkey and the occasional fart and bellow from the horned beast. It’s not a scene in which Abby thought she would be in her life, but here she is, and she’s rarely been happier.

Marcus comes in with the wooden cradle in his arms and he sets it down in front of Abby proudly. She examines it. It’s somewhat misshapen and there are blood drops decorating it in various places, but Marcus has smoothed it and carved what she thinks are flowers and trees on it. “It’s beautiful,” she says. “I love it.”

“Thanks. I hope he’ll like it.”

“Of course he will. Let’s test it.”

Marcus lines the cradle with a blanket and lays Adam in it. He gurgles and then he screws up his face and starts to cry.

“Damn,” says Marcus.

“He has to get used to it. Rock it.”

Marcus rocks the cradle and eventually Adam stops crying and falls asleep. “I’m a genius!” says Marcus triumphantly.

“You’re something,” says Abby, and she gives him a long, slow kiss as reward.

They eat a meal and then there is a knock at the door and the landlady pokes her head around it. “Ye have visitors,” she says, and Abby looks at Marcus.

“Visitors? Have you told anyone about Adam?”

“No. I tried to get a messenger to go to Salem but there’s a terrible sandstorm and no one will venture out.”

“Someone must have.”

The door opens, and four figures enter the room, followed by a swirl of sand. They are dressed like Marcus in long robes, their heads covered and their faces swathed in cloth. They are holding long branches with curved heads and they lean on these as they stare at Marcus, Abby and Adam.

“Who are you?” says Marcus, getting up and approaching the figures, putting himself between them and his family.

“It’s us, Kane,” says a familiar voice, and Abby’s heart leaps as she recognises Raven before the girl unwraps the cloth from her face to reveal a broad grin. “Abby!” she says as she rushes towards her, kneeling beside the makeshift bed so she can hug her.

The other figures remove their head coverings to reveal Shaw, Murphy and Emori.

“What are you doing here?” says Marcus as he shakes the hands of their visitors.

“What are YOU doing here is more the question?” says Murphy. “We thought you were dead.”

“I am risen,” says Marcus, and Murphy groans.

“I see your jokes haven’t improved.”

“I’m a dad now. They’re only going to get worse. Seriously, though, why are you here?””

“We’ve been out a few days, surveying the land, looking for somewhere to settle, and last night we were camped in a field, sheltering from the storm when a man approached us. He said two strangers like us had come to his village and had a baby. He told us we’d find the baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a cradle. I wanted to ignore him, crazy old dude, but Raven was convinced it was Abby and looks like she was right for once.”

Raven pulls a face at Murphy then looks back at Abby. “Let me see this baby then.”

Abby takes Adam from his cradle and hands him to Raven. “It’s a boy. We’ve called him Adam.”

“Hi Adam,” Raven coos. “Wow, that’s a good head of hair.”

“Look at his father,” says Abby with a roll of her eyes.

“You’re not exactly lacking in the hair department yourself, Abby,” says Murphy and Abby glowers at him.

“He looks like both of us,” says Marcus.

Murphy shrugs. “All kids are ugly when they’re born.”

“He’s not ugly!” Abby is indignant and Marcus glares at Murphy.

“I’m just saying. He’s kind of wrinkly.” He pulls a face at Adam.

“He’s not wrinkly,” says Abby as she takes Adam from Raven and holds him to her. “He has to put some weight on, grow into his skin, that’s all.”

“I suppose with two old wrinklies as parents it’s to be expected.”

“John!” says Emori.

“You cheeky bugger,” says Marcus, but he’s laughing. Abby wants to laugh too but she’s determined not to give Murphy that satisfaction.

“He’s beautiful, Abby,” says Raven. “Ignore that idiot.”

“Are you going to stay? We don’t have much food, none really, but we have algae punch.” Abby turns to Marcus. “Get the punch, Marcus, we should toast the baby’s head.”

“We can’t stay long. The storm is bad, and we should get back to Salem, tell Clarke you’re safe and she has a brother!”

“How is Clarke? I’ve spoken to her on the radio of course but it’s not the same.”

“She’s fine. She’s really good. We’re planning a settlement. Diyoza’s in charge. There’s going to be a hospital and meeting place. It sounds great.”

Marcus pours a sip of the punch into every vessel he can find and passes them around. “Diyoza is doing this?”

“Yes. She said she was inspired by someone. I don’t know who.”

Marcus looks at Abby with pride but she doesn’t understand why. He raises his glass. “I’d like to raise a toast to Abby first, who saved me, and not for the first time, and who has brought our son safely into the world. To Abby!”

“To Abby!” They all take a sip.

“And to our boy, Adam Marcus Kane. I never expected to be a father. Such things are meant for others not for me, but here he is, and I already love him more than anything except for his mom. I wish him a long and happy life. To Adam!”

Everyone toasts the baby with another sip and Abby wipes away a tear. She’d never expected Marcus to wake up and know his child, never wondered how he would feel about being a father. He’s happier than she would ever have expected, proud, on cloud nine.

“You’re a lucky guy, Kane,” says Raven.

“I know.”

“You’d better look after my girl while we’re gone. No more fighting cannibals or getting locked up, you hear me?”

“I won’t. I promise. Tell Clarke to bring a cart or whatever wheeled transport they have here. Abby can’t walk long distances yet and I don’t want Adam exposed to this weather.”

“Don’t worry. She’ll bring what you need.” Raven kisses Marcus on the cheek. “Okay, we should go.” She comes over to Abby, kisses her and strokes Adam’s head. “You take care of my godson.”

Abby smiles. “I will. Be careful, Raven.”

“Always.” Raven winks and then she pulls up her hood and disappears into the storm with Shaw and Emori.

Only Murphy is left. He leans in and takes another look at the baby. Abby pulls Adam closer to her, puts her hand on the back of his head to shield him from Murphy’s critical eye.

“There’s no need to hide him. He’s not bad-looking as baby’s go.” He steps back. “I’m happy for you,” he says, and then he leaves before Marcus or Abby can say anything.

“I’ll never understand that boy,” says Marcus.

“That could be Adam one day.”

Marcus looks at her in shock. “Don’t say that! Our boy is going to be an angel.”

“Were you an angel when you were a young man?”

“Erm, yes I kind of was actually.”

Abby shakes her head. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. Well I wasn’t, so I guess we’d better hope he takes after you.”

Marcus holds his hands out to Abby and she deposits Adam in his arms. “You’re only going to have the best bits of your mom and dad,” he says to the boy.

“And what are those?” says Abby. “Enlighten me.”

“Obviously, he’s going to be big and strong and handsome and a hit with the ladies like his daddy.”

Abby snorts with laughter at Marcus’s description of himself. “A hit with the ladies! Since when?”

“I turned you around didn’t I?”

“You think that was you? You didn’t even realise I fancied you. That kiss in Medical took you completely by surprise.”

“I took the brand for you. Didn’t that tell you something?”

“Only that you had to be all masculine in front of those kings and queens.”

“Don’t listen to your mom, Adam. She’s twisting the truth.”

“What about my best bits then?” Abby says, ignoring his jibe.

“Adam’s never going to inherit those,” Marcus says with a twinkle in his eye. “At least I hope not.”

“They’re pretty impressive at the moment,” says Abby, looking down at her boobs that could eclipse the two suns if she stood in the right position, or so she feels.

“They’re always impressive.” Marcus smirks. “No. I hope he has your kind heart, your warmth, your love and your stubbornness and your capacity to forgive.”

“Fatherhood has made you soft,” says Abby, more to deflect herself from shedding more tears than because she means it. Her hormones are all over the place and Marcus’s sentimentality is threatening to derail her completely.

Adam starts crying again and Marcus sits on the straw bed next to Abby and hands him to her. “Time to give my other guy some attention,” Abby says, and she leans against Marcus who puts his arm around her as Adam latches on to her breast. She feels that their little scene is so perfect there has to be a catch somewhere. Then the horned beast farts and she realises it’s far from perfect, and the sooner Clarke arrives the better for all of them.

Four days pass and Abby and Marcus have developed a routine. He does all the cooking, cleaning, washing and looking after the animals, and Abby sits on her bed and watches him. No, that’s not true. She plays with Adam and watches him. To be fair, it’s only in the last day that she’s felt strong enough to get up and walk about. Marcus won’t let her go outside because the storm is still raging, and he won’t let her pet the animals for fear of disease so there is very little for her to do except nurture their son. Adam is doing better than she’d expected given their situation, but it’s at Abby’s expense because they have so little food, and even though Marcus gives her most of his ration it’s not enough to sustain her and Adam. The less energy she can expend the more there is for the baby.

Marcus is tired as well. He has dark circles under his eyes and he’s so thin the underpants Abby has made for him out of the cloth hang low on his bony hips. Adam goes through twenty diapers each day and Marcus is exasperated at having to wash them all again and again. He has no energy for all the cleaning, and Adam keeps them both awake with his crying. Clarke was never like this, but maybe Abby’s looking back with rose-tinted glasses, or maybe it’s true that boys are more emotional (read demanding) than girls.

Either way, they’re both at their limits of endurance by the time the fifth day dawns and the sandstorm finally abates. Marcus leads the animals outside and mucks out their stalls, and the landlady gives them a hot meal as payment. In the inn. Sitting on a chair at a table. Abby barely remembers how to function in civilised society she’s been confined for so long, not just in the stable but before that, on the spaceship.

“This is nice,” she says as she chews on the meat. She’s desperate for iron, worried about Adam whose skin is so pale, but then he hasn’t seen daylight until today, so it might just be that.

“It’s like a date,” says Marcus smiling.

“First date without baby.” Adam is in the kitchen with the landlady who has taken a shine to him and is therefore being kinder to them. Not kind enough to offer them a proper room, but food and water and clean blankets are more important anyway.

“Are you worried about him?” says Marcus.

“I think the landlady is trustworthy.”

“No, I mean about his health. I see you checking him over a lot, listening to his heartbeat.”

She’s not going to lie to him, even though it means he will worry too. She hasn’t the energy and he deserves the truth. “I am a little. Nothing serious, but he’s very pale and I’m not getting enough iron and therefore neither is he.”

“What does that mean?” says Marcus, pausing with his fork in the air.

“It means, and I’m not saying this is happening, just that it might, if he doesn’t make enough red blood cells his oxygen levels will be low and that will lead to him being weak and tired and listless.”

“He is docile when he’s not crying. I thought he was contented.”

“He probably is. I’m just keeping an eye on him, that’s all.”

“Is there anything we can do about it?”

“We need proper food, meat, vegetables, beans, eggs. This is good, what we’re having now. This will benefit him later.” Abby smiles at Marcus to reassure him but he’s frowning, and thinking.

“You should have my meat,” he says, pushing his bowl towards her. “Or I can save it, so you’ll have some for tomorrow.”

“No, Marcus. You need it too.”

“Not as much as you.”

“Yes you do. I need you. We need you to be strong. We don’t know if Clarke will come and who’s going to lead that damned donkey if you’re too weak to walk?”

Marcus smiles faintly. “I’ll do anything for you and Adam.”

“I know, and keeping yourself alive is the best thing you can do. Enjoy your meal, please Marcus. I want us to have a nice time, a normal moment.”

“Okay.” He eats a piece of the meat and smiles at her but she can tell it’s an effort. He’d save it all now if he could.

“What do you think Salem is like?” she says to distract them both.

“I don’t know. This planet is confusing to me. It’s a step-up from Grounder culture, but it’s a long way from what Earth used to be, before the first apocalypse.”

“It was colonised by Eligius so I guess they’re trying to make it like Earth, like how they remember their home.”

“Those people at the oasis, though. Their religion was obviously based in Christianity and yet it was as though 2,000 years of history hadn’t happened.”

“They’ve been here a long time. Diyoza’s kru were in cryosleep for ages, and we have been. The Grounders lost touch with much of Earth history within a couple of hundred years, maybe it’s the same for the oasis people, especially if they’re nomadic.”

“That’s true.” Marcus eats more of the stew as he ponders Abby’s words and she’s glad. She needs him. A few years ago, if you discount cryosleep, she never would have admitted that, but she does. She takes strength from him, even when he annoys her and frustrates her, and his love is overwhelming. She never would have survived the bunker and its aftermath without him, even if she nearly lost him with her stubbornness. She should have opened her darkness to him a long time before she did, but that’s the past. They have their fresh start.

“I wonder what Clarke will make of Adam?” she says.

“She’ll love him. She’s a mom now too, isn’t she? She’ll understand.”

“I guess.” Abby forgets about Madi sometimes, forgets that Clarke is a mom, that she has her own little girl, and is no longer Abby’s baby. “It must be mortifying, though, having a mom with a baby younger than your own child.”

Marcus laughs. “I think we’re all beyond mortifying each other. Besides we need new blood. Madi and Hope and Adam are just the start. There’ll be more babies. There has to be.”

“Not for us, though,” says Abby, alarmed at the look on Marcus’s face.

“I don’t know. A little girl of our own. Might be nice.”

“No!” says Abby emphatically. “I’m not going through that again.”

“We’ll see.”

“No, we won’t!”

Marcus says nothing, just smiles enigmatically, and Abby bites back any further comment. If he thinks they’re having another child he’s got another think coming.

A cry prevents any further conversation, one that grows louder as it nears their table. It’s Adam and he doesn’t look happy. He’s red in the face and his tiny fists are clenched.

“I think he wants his mommy,” says the landlady before depositing him in Abby’s arms and retreating.

Abby gives him her breast but he’s not interested, pushing her away as best he can. “Maybe he needs a diaper change.” She sniffs his bum but there’s nothing to smell.

“What’s wrong with him?” says Marcus full of concern.

“He’s just cranky. Let’s go back to the stable.” Abby gets up to leave and Marcus tips her food into his bowl and takes it with them. Nothing she does quietens Adam. He doesn’t respond to cuddles or back rubs or her breast or her finger. He screams, and the animals join in and the choir from hell forms a backdrop to Marcus and Abby’s despair.

“What about that wooden thing?” says Marcus as he grabs Abby’s bag.

“What wooden thing?”

“This.” He pulls out the wooden ball that Dioyza had given Abby. She’d forgotten all about it. Marcus rattles the toy in front of Adam and his cries turn to sobs as he tries to grasp the ball. Within a minute he’s gurgling and Marcus puts him in the cradle and rocks it while shaking the toy. Another minute and Adam is asleep.

“This ball is a miracle thing,” Marcus whispers.

“And your cradle.”

Marcus lies beside Abby on the straw and they fall into a deep sleep. Abby is wakened by a commotion outside and then the door bursts open and three more robed figures enter, this time with their heads uncovered, so she can tell at once it’s Clarke, Bellamy and Indra.

“Clarke!” she cries and tries to get up but then Adam wakes and starts to bawl, and she’s torn between going to her daughter and tending to her son.

Marcus wakes, blinking as he comes around. “What’s happening?”

“Clarke is here!”

“What?”

“Clarke is here. Adam is crying.”

“Oh. Hi,” he says, waving at Clarke who is still standing in the doorway observing the chaos of the scene in front of her. She waves back. “I’ll get Adam,” Marcus says, and Abby finally manages to roll out of the bed and get up to greet Clarke. She looks down at herself, checking she’s actually wearing clothes because she can’t remember falling asleep. She’s in her jeans and sweater. There’s spit-up down the sleeve and another dubious stain on her thigh, but it’s not too bad.

“Hi,” she says and Clarke steps forward, gives her a hug.

“Hi.”

Tears roll down Abby’s cheeks and she hugs her daughter tight. “I’ve missed you,” she says. Clarke nods, steps back.

“So, I have a brother?” she says, and Marcus steps forward and shows her Adam. “He’s definitely yours.” She strokes Adam’s face and then leans towards Marcus and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

Abby senses something is off with Clarke. She seems cold, distant. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, mom. Sorry it took us so long to get here. We couldn’t see a thing in the storm, so we were following the north star by night.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” says Bellamy who shakes Marcus’s hand and peeks at the baby. “He’s cute.”

“Yes, it would have been a good idea except there’s two north stars like there’s two suns and one of them is slightly off north, so we ended up going round in circles.” Clarke rolls her eyes, and Bellamy looks down at the ground.

“I told you not to trust him,” says Indra.

“Hey, Clarke’s the one with earth skills. I figured she’d know how to do the math.”

“Why don’t you sit down,” says Abby. “There aren’t any chairs, but the floor is clean. Marcus sweeps it.” She says this with some pride but Clarke is not amused.

“How have you ended up here, mom?”

“You know how.”

“You should have come with us when I told you to, and we wouldn’t have this situation. Having your baby in a stable. At your age.”

“Your mother’s age has nothing to do with it, Clarke,” says Marcus, but Abby knows he’s missing the point. Clarke is mad with her for staying behind, for leaving her for a dead man and his baby.

“If I’d come with you then Marcus wouldn’t be here now.”

“I know, and I’m glad you’re here, Kane, I really am, but you don’t understand what my mother has put us all through these last few months.”

“She did what she thought was right, what she wanted to do.”

Indra steps forward, puts her hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “Clarke, your mother is tired. It is not for you to question her. Not now.”

“Its okay, Indra,” says Abby. She’d rather have it out with Clarke now so they can move on, if that’s possible.

“No, Abby. Clarke must show respect.”

“Yes,” says Clarke. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so worried, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry you were worried,” says Abby. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“What was your intention, mom? To die up there with Kane?”

“I wasn’t going to die. I was having the baby.”

“And then what? You were going to have the baby and live up there with it and a dead man? What kind of life is that for it?”

“I hoped. I always had hope.”

Clarke shakes her head.

“I was right,” says Abby weakly. “I was right to hope.”

“Your choices are alarming to me.”

“You never wanted me to have this baby.”

“I would have wanted it if you came to Salem with the rest of us, but you chose to live up there with him. I didn’t understand it then and I still don’t.”

“I couldn’t leave him. I couldn’t leave Marcus.”

“It’s all water under the bridge now,” says Bellamy as he rests his hand on Clarke’s arm.

“Yes. Okay. Yes, I know. I’m happy for you, mom. I’m glad it all worked out.”

“Okay.” Abby reaches a tentative hand to Clarke who takes it before Abby pulls her into a hug and after a moment Clarke wraps her arms around Abby and they are both crying. Adam adds his voice to the chorus, and the animals join in and it’s a cacophony of noise in the tiny stable.

“How do you live like this?” says Clarke as she pulls apart from Abby.

“It’s normally quite peaceful,” says Marcus.

“Tell me you’ve brought a cart or something to take us to Salem,” says Abby.

“I have, but oh, we have other gifts first. Bellamy?” She turns to Bellamy who rummages in his bag and hands a small package to Abby who opens it, revealing some herbs and a neatly-carved wooden bowl.

“What are we supposed to do with that?” says Marcus. “Smoke it?”

“I thought you didn’t have a misspent youth?” Abby says with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s some kind of incense. Gaia prepared it for you. She says it will ward off evil spirits.” Bellamy gives Abby a look like he doesn’t believe a word of it. Abby takes the gift from him.

“Thank you,” she says, “and I will make sure to thank Gaia when I see her.”

Indra steps forward with her own offering. “This is Myrrh wine. It’s very popular here. I thought you might need it.” Indra gives this to Marcus, not Abby, and he takes it and shakes Indra’s hand.

“You are not wrong my friend,” he says, and they smile at each other.

“I’m the one who gave birth,” Abby says.

“Yes,” says Indra, “but it is Kane who shoulders the burden.”

“What?” Abby raises her arms to the sky, perplexed at how Indra could see Marcus’s role as the greater one.

“You can’t drink anyway,” says Marcus. “Not while you’re breastfeeding.”

“I’m the one who pushes your enormous, hairy child out of me and it’s you who gets the drink? Something is wrong here.”

Marcus shrugs, and smirks. Abby feels the urge to hit him but holds back. For now.

“This is from me.” Clarke hands Abby a tiny bracelet made from gold or a similar precious metal. “I didn’t know if it would be a boy or a girl, but I don’t think it matters.”

“No, it doesn’t matter. It’s beautiful. Thank you, darling.” Abby exposes Adam’s foot and slips the bracelet over his ankle. It’s adjustable, so she tightens it just enough so it won’t fall off.

Marcus twirls it. “Thank you, Clarke. It’s perfect.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Are you going to stay the night?” says Abby.

“I thought we would get on the road now. There’s time to get back to Salem before dark.”

Abby is shocked at the suddenness with which Clarke wants to leave. A sick feeling settles in her stomach. She looks around the stable, at Adam’s cradle, their straw bed where she’d birthed him, the fire and pots Marcus so lovingly tends, even the stupid donkey and the farting horned beast. She isn’t ready to leave it all. Marcus is watching her, and Abby turns her eyes up to him.

“I think today is too soon, Clarke. There’s a lot to prepare for even a short journey with a baby. Another day won’t hurt,” he says, and Abby is grateful to him.

Clarke sighs. “We can’t all stay in here. I’ll go and speak to the landlady.”

“There’s no room at the Inn,” says Marcus.

“There’s always room when you have currency. I won’t be long.”

Marcus sits with Indra and Abby watches and listens while she tells him about Salem. “What about this king, Herodious?” Marcus says. “I’ve heard some bad things about him.”

“He’s like that man of yours, Pike. Hates strangers. He was very threatening when we first arrived, but he soon saw what we can offer. They’re an impoverished people, and he’s not so stubborn as to turn down opportunity when it calls.”

“I see. And what about the prophecy?”

“What prophecy?”

“I was told he was expecting a new Messiah, a religious leader.”

Indra frowns. “I do not know of such a thing. He has not mentioned it to us.”

“Okay.”

“Abby?”

Abby looks around to see Bellamy crouching beside her. “Hi.”

“Clarke didn’t mean to be rude to you before. She’s been really worried. Twice she’s tried to get a kru together to go and get you but we stopped her. We knew it was your decision to stay, but she couldn’t accept it.”

“I do understand that, Bellamy. But look at him.” She nods in Marcus’s direction. “I couldn’t leave him.”

“I know that, I do, but it was like you wanted to die with him.”

Abby frowns. “I had the baby.”

“Even with the baby. Clarke was worried you didn’t want to live without Kane, baby or no baby.”

“I would never have done anything to Adam. Never!”

“There are lots of ways to die, Abby. They don’t all involve physical death.”

Abby is silent, looks at Marcus. Was that what she was doing? Waiting to die? No. She had faith, she had hope, and yet hadn’t she told herself earlier she’d never thought he would wake and see his child, so what was she hoping for?

Bellamy puts his hand on her arm but Abby doesn’t look at him. The door opens and Clarke enters. She holds a key out to Abby. “Okay you two. There’s a nice clean room waiting for you. We’ll bunk out in here.”

Abby looks at Marcus who returns her look. “It’s okay, Clarke. I think we’d rather spend our last night in Bethel in here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” says Abby. “It’s what we want.”

“You’re crazy. But okay, if that’s what you want.”

Abby nods. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay.” Clarke kisses her and then she leaves the stable with Bellamy and Indra.

Marcus gets on the bed next to Abby, takes a sleepy Adam from his cradle.

“Is it crazy that I don’t want to leave here?” says Abby, stroking their son’s soft dark hair.

“No. It’s been our shelter, our sanctuary, the place we had our child.”

“Our first family home.”

“Yes.” Marcus kisses Adam, and then kisses Abby. “I love you both.”

“We love you too.”

They settle on the bed, their son nestling between them, and Abby listens to the gentle wind blowing through the rafters, the soft whinnying of the donkey, and the snorts of the horned beast. Marcus breathes evenly by her side, and Adam snores gently. It doesn’t matter where you are if you have faith in something that comforts you, someone who loves you, and hope for the future, the greatest of these being hope.

 

 

Merry Christmas everyone!

 


End file.
